A Long October's Night
by SasukeBlade
Summary: The caravan comes home for the year on Hallow's Eve. Hijinks abound in the midst of comedy, confrontation, comfort, costumes, and confusion.
1. The Caravan : The Home Stretch

I should probably state right now that this is invariably going to degenerate into sex comedy at some point. Also, that there are LGBTQ characters and all sorts of relationships. If such ideas offend, please read no further. I will warn for all "high-rated" material and eventually change the rating of this story to M if need be.

This story will be updated at least once every day until November 1st, on which the last chapter will be posted. Enjoy a month of fic!

**Caravan - The Home Stretch**

_"All these roads, but they all lead home."_

* * *

There was a faint hint of smoke in the air. Sherrill sniffed deeply, taking in the damp, friendly aromas of the autumn breeze. Yellowed and reddened leaves swirled across the ground, her long dark hair blew teasingly across her face and caught on her chapped lips. She sighed, and another's hand reached to brush the offending strands away.

"Peace," Raithen, her co-captain, said, tucking the strands behind her ear. Though he was a Yuke of massive stature, his large brown paws were, as always, surprisingly gentle. He might have towered over everyone at a handspan over six feet tall, but as a rather tall Clavat lady, Sherrill was no slouch herself. "We'll be home soon enough."

Below them the road wound and traversed its way down to where the home valley stretched, new and glorious in the morning light. The morning sun was only just clearing away the last vestiges of fog. The crystal gleamed and winked in the weak sunlight, a blue pinpoint of hope. Thin tendrils of smoke curled from the chimneys of several homes, and she was fairly certain that the brown figure moving in the fields was Farmer Kellen. Perhaps the figures in the orchards were the children?

"I know," she said, mindlessly adjusting her pack on her shoulders as the two of them stood aside to let Ren lead the pack animals ahead. "It's just... Hao." Three months should have been long enough to swallow the lump that rose in her throat whenever she thought of the Selkie woman, yet Sherrill still had to fight the grief that tightened her chest.

Raithen inclined his head slowly. "The ceremony."

Sherrill didn't answer. The nice thing about Rai, she thought, was that one never really had to.

"Marina must miss you dearly, though," he stated after a moment's contemplation, seemingly non-sequitur. "And Lena and Loren. I wonder how much they have grown in this past year. Poor Arro must be desperate to share all his learning as well."

Thinking of them waiting for her, she smiled. With a clap on his bony shoulder, Sherrill jogged up to where their second Clavat, little Ren, was steadfastly ignored Aaron's teasing and Jai Noo's flirtations. "On the double, lads!" she told them, grabbing the boys by their ears and pulling them along with her.

"God_dammit,_ Rai!" Aaron swore, tripping along in her wake. His short Lilty legs had to sprint to keep up with her rangy stride. "Why do you always have to-yaaaargh!" He squirmed under Sherrill's suddenly extra tightened grip. Jai Noo suffered quietly as he tried to keep up, the occasional muttered curse passing his lips. He'd grown used to her good natured hazing in the mere months he'd traveled with them.

Behind them, Ren laughed herself silly, her tiny five foot frame leaning against and somehow propping up the giant chuckling Raithen. They were on the downhill of the pass that led to their valley home, it would be an easy walk from here. Sherrill relaxed her pace and let go of the boys, who mumbled bad names at her that she easily pretended not to hear. She took another deep breath. Home.


	2. Marina :  Motherhood

**Marina - Motherhood**

_If the whole world were put into one scale, and my mother in the other, the whole world would kick the beam._

**

* * *

**

Marina dusted her hands of flour, then checked her clockwork. The first loaves would be out shortly. Though her hands had always been more comfortable with needle and cloth, it was surprising how motherhood could introduce one to all sorts of skills.

The children hadn't complained about her cooking for awhile. She took it as a good sign. The last mishap had been so bad even Arro had said something, though he hadn't been able to look her in the eye as he kindly offered to help her read the recipe next time.

Speaking of her three children, where had they run off to? "Arro?" she called, receiving no answer. "Lena? Loren?"

A giggle sounded from the living room, then a scamper of feet. Loren, her youngest, dashed into the kitchen and collided with her apron covered waist. "Mama!" he called joyfully, ignoring the cloud of flour that puffed around him at the impact.

"Where's your brother and sister?" Marina asked him, avoiding the urge to chuckle at his sparkling blue eyes-Aaron's mischievous eyes, through and through. In most ways he was her little copy: same perpetually ruffled head spikes, same red tinting, same smile, same steadiness. The village gossips might wonder how he came about. Let them.

"Lenny's with Merry and Hope," he told her, ignoring the fine powdering on his face. "Arro's watching for Mom."

Oh, Arro. Marina closed her eyes. Her heart ached for their Yuke son. Quiet and studious, he'd always been closer to Sherrill. Though her wife had written from Alfitaria to say the caravan would likely be back with the first snows, Arro had taken a book out to the edge of the path every day since the equinox. She knew he'd been having a hard time with the other village children-being the adopted Yuke son of a Clavat and Lilty will do that-but isolating himself wouldn't help anything. She turned to the oven with a sigh, ready to swap the baked bread for the prepared dough. "Would you fetch him?"

The door slammed open a room away, rattling the whole house. "Mama!" Arro shouted, and Marina's heart leapt to her throat. Had he been hurt? "Mama, Mom's home!"

It took her a moment to register the words. "Are you sure?" she demanded, cooling bread forgotten on the counter. Arro crashed through the kitchen entryway, running into both her and Loren. She caught his thin shoulders with both hands, steadying his shaking frame. "Arro!"

"She's here, I swear it!" he told her, looking down from his great, gangly height. Marina smiled at the differences of her two boys, one approaching six feet, the other not three, but both had the same imploring expression.

Untying her apron with shaking fingers, she nodded to the door. "Let's go meet them," she told the boys, though they hardly waited for her command, and the group headed out of the house at a run. As she sprinted down the village path after her sons, Marina couldn't remember if she'd even shut the door.


	3. Kellen : Single, Lonely Farmer

**Kellen - Single, Lonely Farmer**

_"Loneliness is the first thing which God's eye named, not good."_**  
**

* * *

Farmer Kellen wiped the sweat from his forehead, knowing he'd likely smeared dirt in the action. He'd seen the caravan come over the pass this morning, now just after noon, he guessed they would be approaching the outer reaches of the crystal's strength.

Ty had beaten him to the wash basin, so Kellen perched on the nearby fence and turned his tanned face to the sun. Behind him his fields stretched, wheat golden in the sun, the last of the vegetables nearly finished ripening. Sometimes he thought he'd been born sun-browned, the same color as the dry soil. That would have made sense for a farmer: born from the land, work the land, return to the land.

He shouldn't have been having these thoughts, not on a beautiful, crisp fall day like this. He thought he'd chased them away nine winters ago, thrown them out with the last of his whiskey. Bea had never liked the person he became when he drank. With her gone, he'd given the last of the bottles to his farmhand Ty and turned all his attentions to the fields and his then infant daughters. They'd managed all this time, but still, he worried.

"Kell," Ty clapped him on the shoulder, "You're up."

He hopped off the fence, eager to get cleaned. Splashing his face, he gave up and ducked under the pump, letting the cool water rush over his head and shoulders.

The caravan was back, that was one worry gone. Yet he'd heard that Hao Ri had passed away this year. How would he explain to the girls that the friendly lady who had taught them self defense wouldn't be coming home? That death didn't just affect mothers, a term they only understood in the abstract, but friends you knew and loved?

Maybe his old friend Raithen would know the answers. Or Sherrill? He sighed to himself, stepping back and shaking the water from his brown hair, slicking it back. Not a day went by that he didn't think of the girls' future, and find himself worrying. Who would explain the facts of womanhood to them? Who would take care of their needs when they didn't feel they could come to him any longer?

And there were the days he worried for himself, too. He missed casual, intimate touch. He missed leaning on a love stronger than he was alone. He missed having someone to hold.

"Papa!" That was Merry, his eldest. He looked up to see Hope and Lena jumping up and down beside her, up by the house. "The caravan's here!"

He strode up the path, Ty following. Merry was already running down to the village entrance, but Hope waited patiently for both of the men, Lena at her side. When Kellen drew near, Lena reached out her hand and took his.

"Come on, Uncle Kell!" she said with a sweet smile. Kellen couldn't help but smile back. Their hazel eyes met and she squeezed his hand tightly. Of course, he wasn't her real uncle, but Lena had taken to calling him that within the past year.

Maybe someday he would explain to her their real relation. Or, more likely, he'd leave it to Sherrill. His old friend and one-time lover always seemed to have the right words to say.

"Papa!" Merry called again, dragging him from the pit of his own thoughts, waving for them to hurry. "Come _on!"_

Kellen laughed and paused to lift Lena to his shoulders, then jogged down the road. His youngest daughter, the girl Sherrill and Marina had wanted so desperately, clung tightly to his hands and shrieked with laughter the whole way.


	4. Ensemble : Happy Homecoming

**Ensemble - Happy Homecoming**

_"Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave, and grow old wanting to get back to."_

* * *

For all that the waist high, split rails would do nothing to hinder attacking monsters, the fence still served an important purpose to the town. The pine barrier wound its way around the small village of Hot Creek, encompassing the outer fields and quite a bit of the creek and hot springs for which the settlement was named. It served not to keep anything out, nor anyone in, but merely as a reminder. Beyond this fence, the miasma loomed.

The village's founders had spent years marking out the exact boundaries of the crystal's strength, a task as risky as any caravanner's. Mina Mi knew the stories of the founding, from the marauding monsters to the slow work of mapping the edges of protection. As the village's schoolteacher she had told and retold them to the children in historic pride and caution.

So why were so many of the villagers gathered at the rails today, leaning on them and even sitting atop them, with no regard to the miasma beyond? She clutched her wicker basket closer, hoping no underclothes had peeked out from her laundry. Why had the village decided to have a meeting by the entrance to town, and coincidentally the path to the creek?

She drew back to the other side of the path, hoping to leave without being seen, when someone shouted. Soon everyone was shouting. Mina froze.

"Well, look who finally decided to show up," one of the elders drawled. Jerking her head to look at him, she was surprised to find that the man wasn't paying attention to her at all, but rather to something beyond the fence.

'Oh, no,' she thought faintly. Yet she still stood rooted to the spot, clutching her basket of undergarments, and hoped the ground would disappear beneath her.

* * *

The moment the caravan crossed between the two posts signaling the entrance to the village, the townspeople seemed to explode with noise. A chorus of 'welcome home's and 'we missed you's rang out, villagers ran forward to help Ren with the pack animals. Friends and families greeted the caravanners.

It was easy to see Kellen in a crowd, particularly with that familiar girl on his shoulders. Sherrill ran to him, practically leaping into his arms in order to kiss her daughter. He took the chalice from Sherrill as she leaned on him in order to whisper to Lena, she hugged him gratefully. "Kell!" she said, smiling warmly. "How are you? How are the girls?"

"Inseparable," he told her, reaching back to lift Lena over his head and set her down. The child instantly ran to Sherrill, hugging her mother around the waist and pressing her face into Sherrill's stomach. "Not that I'd ever mind. I think Mari worries a bit."

"Mari worries enough for all three of us," Sherrill shrugged absentmindedly, battle roughened hands stroking through Lena's hair over and over. She scanned the crowd. Her Lilty partner was nowhere in sight. Marina was probably up at the house with Arro and Loren.

Kellen took in the sight of the dark circles under his friend's eyes, her slumped shoulders. "How was the year?" he asked her, placing a gentling hand on her back.

Her sharp eyes found his. "Other than...you heard about Hao Ri...other than that, easy I guess. Picked up a new guy, he's all right. Good fighter. Bit silly at times, we'll see if he sticks it out."

"Did ya bring me presents, Mom?" Lena looked up from where she pressed into Sherrill's front. "From Alfitaria?"

Sherrill crouched, the better to look her sweet girl in the eyes. "And if I did, little one?"

Lena said something or other in reply, but a flash of blue had distracted her mother. Sherrill looked over the top of Lena's head into Mina Mi's grey eyes. Both women started, and paled.

Kellen frowned as Sherrill stood abruptly. "What's-" he asked, but she cut him off with a glancing look.

"Just don't," she said, taking Lena by the hand.

Narrowing his eyes, he shrugged and told her, "I'm glad you're back."

"It's good to be back." They hugged once more, and Sherrill moved away hastily to greet someone else, Lena in tow

* * *

Julin the Yuke stood tall on her front porch, mage robes blowing lightly about her ankles in the breeze. She squinted through the slits of her helm toward the village entrance, where a sizeable crowd had gathered.

Her husband Harrier approached from behind her, magic glowing on the tips of his long fingers. Sliding his fingers into the gap between helm and white fur, he pressed the magic to her. Instantly the minor headache she'd been nursing for the past day faded and her vision sharpened.

She turned to Harrier. "A new spell," she stated, knowing the younger man had been working for the past month in his own study on combining magics.

He hummed a positive reply. "Cure, a little Blizzard, some vervain for the headache. Clear for vision. Very nice, I think."

"The caravan's back," she told him, and though they both had their helms on, she could feel the way he lit up with joy.

"Should we-?" Harrier hesitated.

Julin shook her head. "No. Get Nama and 'Lira, we will await him in the inner sanctum."

* * *

Cool green eyes watched the merriment around the return, noted the fence, counted the houses and guessed the distance to the crystal at the center of town.

It wasn't the town's fault that they didn't know what to do with him, Jai Noo recognized. It wasn't anybody's fault. He could count the number of Selkies he saw before him on one hand. Normally that would make him worry. In his homeless days he'd learned to watch out for towns where there weren't many Selkies. Too often the Selkies weren't there for a reason.

And yet, though he saw maybe three Selkies here (four, the lady in the background with the sad eyes), he somehow knew that this place was all right. Maybe it was the way the caravan had taken him in with some rather odd questions (Would you be upset if you woke up to find Raithen staring at you and documenting your sleep state? What the hell? Do you take offense to arrogant Lilty braggarts? ...No?). Maybe it was the way the townspeople congratulated him on a job well done this year, even though they didn't know him.

Whatever it was, Jai knew he'd be all right here. He'd find a place to sleep at some point, and Raithen had said he'd help feed him. That was all the general needs taken care of. Now as for being _happy _here...well, he'd need some gorgeous babes, and he'd need them right about now.

Where were all the Clavat and Selkie hunnies? He sighed. Maybe this place wasn't so great after all.

* * *

Kellen looked around to see what had spooked Sherrill so badly. Surely not the reunions around them? Maybe it was the new boy's rather odd, hungry gaze. Then his eyes lit on silver hair and storm grey eyes and he knew.

Mina Mi, the village schoolteacher, stood at the edge of the path. A basket piled with cloths was clutched to her front, her tanned skin glowed in contrast with her blue cotton dress. Her hair was unbound, it fell to her shoulders in waves. She looked as if she'd been caught off guard, heading down to the creek to do her washing. She looked as if she'd rather be anywhere else at the moment.

There would be no happy homecoming for Mina, Kellen knew. She had lost her sister, her identical twin. No wonder Sherrill had faltered. Hao Ri and Mina Mi had been mirror images of each other.

He wondered if Mina would ever look at her own reflection the same way again.

Even now, three months after they'd received word, Mina looked as if the tragedy had occurred all over again. She swallowed visibly, looking down at her feet. Whipping away, she dashed off unnoticed toward her little room above the schoolhouse.

It was none of his business. And yet, he'd felt the deep heartache of grief before. He knew what it meant to lose half of yourself. No one should have to be alone through that.

Before he even realized what he was doing, his legs were taking him to the path down which she had just ran.


	5. Ty : The Invisible Man

So my update schedule got thrown off track by a personal emergency, so I'll be doing my best to upload the missed chapters tonight and tomorrow. Also, the comedy has gone somewhere else for a little while and will show up later once I can get Angsty-McSadpants-Sas out of my head.

**Ty - The Invisible Man**

_Every closed eye is not sleeping, and every open eye is not seeing._

**

* * *

**

He'd scrubbed himself harshly at the water pump, taking extra care to wash any trace of sweat or dirt away. While Kellen had daydreamed, he'd picked the grit from his nails and even tried to style his black hair a bit. It wasn't much, but he'd take even the slightest advantage at this point.

The caravan was home, and that could only mean one thing. _She _was home. Just the thought of her made him start to sweat all over again. He could do this, dammit. He was a man now. Ugh, he'd told himself that how many times now? And how many times had it worked? He was a failure, he amended. But even failures had to catch a break sometime. Or at least, that's what he told himself as he followed Kellen and the girls down to the village entrance.

It didn't take Ty more than a moment to spot her. Oh gods. There she was, right beside Aaron and some Selkie. Her cap of short brown hair shone in the sun, he saw her lean toward the Selkie, then heard her laughter above the noise of the crowd. Though he wanted to bristle at the idea of the new caravanner making a move, well, he had to give the guy credit. The Selkie was only doing what he wanted so badly to do.

Ty swallowed hard. Today would be the day he would talk to her without stuttering. Today would be the day he would at last impress her. Well, all right, he could hold off on impressing her, so long as he managed to say _something. _That something, whatever it might be, could lead to the impressing.

She drew nearer, pack beasts still on their leads behind her. His mouth was dry, he tried frantically to wet his lips. It was only Ren, the rancher's daughter. He'd known her all his life. Surely he could say one thing to her without-

"Hello, Ty," she said, clapping him on the shoulder. She held out the hand that held the reins as he stood there frozen. With a sigh, she reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling it out until his hand ran into the reins. She looped the leads around his wrist, then released him. "Mind giving them over to my pa for me? I've got to speak with the elders about something."

"Ah... s-s-sure, Ren," he said, emerging from his paralysis, but she was already away, talking to someone else. It was likely she hadn't even heard him.

A papaopamus snorted behind him, and he had the sudden feeling that it was laughing at him. He turned and glared at the beast, then at its sibling. Calm, gentle brown eyes stared back at him, and he felt suddenly guilty for being angry with them. He patted one of them, the other nuzzled at his back and then began to munch on his poorly styled hair. Dear gods, not even the animals liked his hair. He really was a failure.

Absentmindedly he passed them off to Ren's father, then waved to Aaron and Rai, but the enthusiasm was gone. Ren would never see him as more than a fellow villager, if she ever really saw him at all. Ty trudged home, wondering what he'd do until the festival began tonight.

Oh, that was right. He'd promised Hope and Merry that he'd take them out around the village for goodies. Hallow's Eve, how could he forget? He smacked himself lightly on the forehead. Twice the fool. He'd better make a costume, then, or the girls would never let him hear the end of it.


	6. Raithen : Scent of You

**Raithen - Scent of You**

_"Nothing is more memorable than a smell. One scent can be unexpected, momentary and fleeting, yet conjure up a childhood summer beside a lake in the mountains..."_

* * *

Much as Raithen wanted to stay and greet his friends, there was a significant lack of Yuke faces. He promised his friends he would speak with them later and hurried down the main path. Past Kellen's fields, past the ranch, past the merchant's home and the market square, he walked, then jogged, then sprinted.

Gods, he hoped they were all right. He took the steps to their door two at a time, his long arms reaching out, yanking the door open.

He walked into the silent, still sitting room. Beams of golden light shone through the gaps of the curtained windows, dust motes danced over the comfortable chairs and long, low table. His family was nowhere in sight. "Julin?" he called softly. "Namarea? Salira? Harrier?" There was no response.

Perhaps they were avoiding the heat of the day in the cool, inner sanctum. Perhaps they were testing experiments, or studying, in the lower level. He hurried toward the descending stair. Most of their home was underground, perhaps they simply had not heard of his arrival. Clattering down the last flight of stairs, he flung open that door.

No one in the library, relaxing on a long couch or comfortable chair. No one in the study. No one in...he paused, then took two steps backward until he could look into the bedroom once more.

The sight that met his eyes made him smile, then grin wickedly beneath his helm. On their massive bed lay his three wives and young husband in various states of undress. Julin, his first wife, rose gracefully from her position and moved to take his dusty cloak.

"Welcome home, darling," she practically purred, delicate fingers undoing the clasps of his helm. She removed the contraption, then rose on her tiptoes to rub her cheek against his. Raithen sighed, enjoying the Yuke kiss. Her scent, rising from her white fur, passed to him in a heady wave.

Namarea was next, tugging at his trousers with a small smile. Her teeth shone white against her black fur. The shyest of his wives, Nama said nothing as she rubbed her cheek against his. Like all Yukes, she did not have to. Her scent was full of longing.

Playful hands tickled his sides, he smiled fondly at Salira, whose red brown fur stuck up wild in all directions. It was almost as wild as she was. They kissed, and her scent nearly bowled him over with lust. With a grin and a slap to her bottom, Rai promised himself he would bowl her over soon enough.

Last, but not least, his husband took his hand, twining his golden furred fingers with Rai's black ones. "We've prepared a bath for you," Harrier said. He, too, rubbed cheeks, and Rai leaned into his affection as if it were a steady shoulder.

"I would like that," Rai said, reaching out and touching each of his spouses in turn. "Thank you." He did not need to say it, for they could feel his gratitude, but he had gotten used to human ways, and they had gotten used to his rather un-Yuke-like behaviors.

They crowded him into the bathing room, finished stripping him of his garments, forced him into the tub. Rai submitted to their scrubbing hands and Harrier's gentle massage. Sighing, he leaned back and closed his eyes. It was wonderful to be home.


	7. Aaron & Margery : Friends and Lovers

**Aaron and Margery - Friends and Lovers  
**

_I know in our hearts we agree_  
_We don't have to be one or the other, oh no_  
_We could be both to each other._

* * *

Raithen had practically bolted from the group, leaving Sherrill and Aaron to deal with Jai Noo. She was arguing with him over who would house the scoundrel when the shout came.

"Sherri!" a woman's voice cried joyfully. Her head snapped up, eyes searching-there she was-and smiled.

"Mari!" Sherrill ran up the road, leaving Aaron with Jai (effectively winning the argument, he noted). The Lilty wife broke into a run as well..

"Well isn't that romantic?" Aaron snickered as the two collided, the much taller Sherrill knocking Marina over in the dust. Ignoring the dirt, they kissed, and Aaron clapped Jai Noo on the shoulder. "And that's why your charm never worked on Sherri," he told the younger man, steering him toward the main path. He wouldn't house him, but they'd made enough gil that he could put himself up in the inn.

Jai watched the two speculatively. "Think they might invite a man to help?" he wondered.

"You?" Aaron looked over the handsome young Selkie. Long and lithe, Jai moved with a dancer's grace. Hell, he'd bed the guy himself if Jai wasn't so biased. Sadly it seemed he was firmly set on the ladies, and only specific types of ladies at that. "Nah. There's many a man in line before you." He didn't deign to mention that he was one of them, nor that he'd already been there and it had been absolutely incredible...no, he didn't want to stray off topic. "Rai's harem might take you, though."

Jai missed a step and stumbled. "Rai... Rai's what?"

Ah, there came that bias. "Rai has three wives and a husband. That's pretty normal for a magician of his status." Aaron shrugged. It seemed perfectly normal to him, but then, he'd also been in the middle of that group before, too.

"What does he do with them? Research?" Jai asked, and Aaron raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Really? Did the boy think he was the only one in the world trying to get some?

"I think he keeps them around for the kinky sex," the Lilty shot back, and was grateful to realize they'd reached the inn. He steered Jai inside and rang the service bell.

Genuinely bewildered, Jai made the worst mistake possible. He looked to Aaron for the answers. "But...how?"

For a moment Aaron contemplated telling him the truth. The moment passed quickly. "Oh, you don't know? Under their fur they have like a thousand little tentacles. When they get down to it it's like..." he paused to lean over the inn's counter. "Oy, Margie!" he shouted. "Get down here!" Lowering his voice, he continued,, "Anyway, tons of wriggling tentacles..."

Jai blanched just as Margery walked in. A Lilty woman with peach colored skin, she leaned against the counter and raised her eyebrows. "I heard something about tentacles. Judging by the lad's face, I don't think I really want to know."

"This is Jai," Aaron said, reaching up to clap the Selkie's shoulder. "And Jai, this is my best friend Margery."

Jai paid upfront for his room and hurried upstairs to his bath. Margery watched him go before rounding on Aaron. "Margie?" she asked.

"Aha, sorry," Aaron said, grinning at her. He leaned across the counter and hugged her around the shoulders. "It's good to see you. Missed you."

She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his. "And I, you."

They stood like that for awhile, simply enjoying the closeness. At last Margery smacked him gently. "How many beds did you crawl into this year?"

"A few," he told her, lightly headbutting her. They drew back, smiling. "My ego's the size of a house without you around to poke fun at me."

Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she grinned. "How ever did you get it through the door?" she teased.

"There was a lot of squeezing," he admitted.

She motioned for him to step around the counter and come into the inn's back rooms. "How about a hot bath?" she asked rhetorically, knowing exactly what the answer would be. Aaron was right behind her in a second. He couldn't wait to get off his feet. Margery always gave the best massages.

In the bathing room, Aaron watched tiredly as she drew hot water into one of the tubs. She had him sit down on the edge, then she stripped him of his clothes and boots, gathering them into a laundry pile. "Get in there," she said, pointing to the tub. "I'll put these in with my wash and be right back with some clean clothes."

He faked a gasp as he sank into the sinfully warm water. "Clean clothes!" he exclaimed. "Those exist?"

She laughed, then dipped her hand into the water to splash him. "Make sure you draw more water to rinse." Bending down, she kissed him lightly on the cheek. Aaron watched her skip from the room fondly.

She was his first and best friend, and his first love, though his feelings had not been requited. He would always regard her fondly, and he was sure, she him.


	8. Sherrill & Marina : Never Enough Letters

**Sherrill and Marina - Never Enough Letters**

_I am tired, Beloved/of chafing my heart against/the want of you/of squeezing it into little inkdrops/And posting it._

* * *

Helping Marina up, Sherrill tried fruitlessly to brush the flour and dust from her clothes. Mostly she just longed to touch, any way at all, and she couldn't help but relish the sensation of running her hands over Marina again. All she really succeeded in doing was creating long brown and white streaks on her wife's sensible shirt and trousers.

"Leave it, Sherri," Marina tried to scold, but couldn't keep the smile from her face. Her own hands were flitting over the Clavat woman, stroking her arms, touching her hair, brushing over the new scar on her cheek with concern.

Loren crowded into the two, wrapping his arms around Sherri's leg and leaving a flour imprint shaped like that of a Lilty toddler on her dark, patched clothes. "Mom!" he said, pressing his face to her thigh. He burst into tears.

"Sweetling!" she exclaimed, reaching down to lift him to her hip. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and shoulder, she patted and rubbed his back. "I'm home, Loren! You don't have to cry!"

Their youngest only sobbed harder, and Marina reached up to stroke his soft red locks. "Must you always make the children cry?" she asked her partner with a weary smile.

Sherrill raised an unamused eyebrow in her direction, then turned to her one child who had yet to greet her. "Arro?" she asked, passing Loren to Marina, where his sobs were muffled and quieted on her familiar shoulder. "Could you give me a hug? I missed you."

Arro, who had hung back behind Marina, took a small step forward. Then he took another. Sherrill opened her arms and he half-ran, half-fell into her embrace.

He was her height now. She hadn't expected that of her twelve-year-old. His helmed head fit easily over her shoulder, she stroked the soft fur at the back of his neck, a gesture that had always soothed him.

"Mom," he said, and she hugged him tighter.

"I'm home," she told him.

His back quivered beneath her hands, but otherwise he gave no reaction. Pulling back, she looked into the dark slits of his visor. 'My baby,' she thought distantly. 'Already becoming the mysterious Yuke.' How long would it be before she didn't even know him anymore?

He seemed all right now, though he took and gripped her hand tightly, leading them all back to the house. Marina held her other hand, with Loren in her arms and Lena attached to Arro's other paw, and they set out. As Lena chatted eagerly about her latest school assignment, Sherrill leaned down to press her lips to Marina's temple.

"I did better at keeping in touch this year, right?" she asked hopefully. She'd not only doubled the letters she's written to her wife, but always included a second letter just for the kids.

"You did," Marina allowed, "But the _accuracy_ of them was a little suspect."

Sherrill lifted her shoulders as if to say, what can you do? "The original pace would have had us here then, but we all wanted to get home."

Marina hummed acknowledgement but otherwise said nothing, allowing the children to fill the silence and enjoy their combined attention. Still, Sherrill couldn't help but glance at her occasionally. Had she said something wrong?

The house in sight, Sherrill drew Marina aside, taking Loren from her arms and setting him down. "Go get out two things you want to show me!" she called to the children, then sent him running with a gentle swat to his behind. He giggled, then went to catch up with his older siblings.

Taking both of Marina's hands, she looked at the Lilty until Marina at last met her eyes. "Sweetheart, dearest, Lilty of my life, what's wrong?"

Escape was not an option; Sherrill's grip, though gentle, was nigh unbreakable. Marina leaned into her wife's strong shoulder, sighing at the comfort she found in the gesture. A deep breath, and she inhaled the mingled scents of dust, sweat, wildflowers, and cinnamon scented soap: Sherri's scent. It was so good to have her home, so wonderful to feel the sudden surge of love in her heart when she finally saw her face. But were the wonderful feelings of homecoming enough?

"You did really good at writing us this year," Marina reiterated. "But Sherri...even if you wrote every day, there would never be enough letters."

Sherrill kissed Marina suddenly, a hungry, desperate gesture. "I know," she whispered, the loneliness of the previous year not yet gone. Perhaps in a week she would feel whole once more. "Mari, I'm sorry." There was so much to be sorry for. Sorry for not being there. Sorry that the path her life had taken meant that it seemed she was always leaving. Sorry for missing so much.

With a shake of her head, Marina drew back and kissed her sweetly. "Sherri, I love you. You don't have to be sorry. You think I didn't know what I was getting into, all those years ago? I knew what it meant to fall in love with a caravanner." Once again she reached up to touch the red streak of a scar that newly lined Sherrill's cheek. "Duty before love. Duty before everything."

"Mama!" Lena poked her head out the front door, and was that a tomahawk in her hand? Sherrill's eyes widened, she looked to Marina, who just shrugged and grinned. "Mom! Come on!"

Though she was exhausted, though she'd walked thousands of leagues to be here, Sherrill ran to the porch, taking the three steps in one go. "All right, sweetlings," she said, holding open the door for her wife to follow, "Show me what you've been up to all year."


	9. Mina Mi & Kellen : Half of a Whole

First, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed. I'm sorry, I will get around to doing individual replies very soon. But I just want you all to know, until then, how deeply I appreciate your words and how happy I am that you are reading this story.

My update schedule has been derailed massively, but oddly enough I still hope to have everything done by November 5th at the latest. Hope springs eternal, I suppose.

* * *

**Mina Mi and Kellen - Half of a Whole**

_"Oh, yes. We never lose the people who love us."_

**

* * *

**

Mina Mi only stopped by the schoolhouse for a moment, then emerged without her basket of clothes. Kellen was still making his way up the path when he saw her blue-clad figure walk back out the door and turn down the path to, oddly enough, his farm.

"You're being so creepy," he told himself as he turned to follow her there "You should have never followed her in the first place. What's she going to do when she sees you? Fool." And yet his feet drew him in her wake, sped up to catch sight of her next move as she rounded the farmhouse.

She disappeared into the orchard and he halted. Unbidden, two trains of thought sprang to his mind. He could let this go now, walk into his house and forget it ever happened. He could tell the girls he'd wandered off for some other reason, when they found him there. He could keep Mina's secret. The second was simply images: Mina and Hao dancing at the festivals, silver hair flying, matching grins. Mina hugging Hao goodbye each year. The schoolhouse door shut and locked the fateful day the town had received notice of Hao's passing. The wild, devastated look in her eyes before she'd bolted from the village entrance.

He walked into the orchard, ducking beneath a low hanging branch, heavy with autumn apples. Immediately his eyes adjusted to the dimness, and there she was. Her back was to him, she was leaning into a tree, head and shoulders bowed. Her shoulders shook, but she made no sound. Kellen froze. He hadn't thought this far ahead. Should he say something? Go to her? Put his arms around her?

Perhaps he stepped on a twig. Perhaps he breathed too loudly. Perhaps she heard his suddenly thudding heart, beating hard against his ribcage. Either way, she turned, tear stained eyes looking at him accusingly.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her low voice thick with unshed tears. He took a step closer, and when she did not grow defensive, another. She looked around, then gave a wet chuckle and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Sorry. Your orchard. I'm the one trespassing."

"Oh, no, darlin'," he said, taking the last step. He could reach out and touch her, yet he didn't. What if she took offense? "More like the village's orchard."

For a moment they both stood there awkwardly, she looking at him and he carefully directing his gaze to the ripening apples above and around them. At last, she said, "I'm sorry," dropping her gaze to his feet. "I'd better go."

As she moved to step around him, Kellen reached out and touched her at last. It was just his hand lightly reaching for hers, but Mina looked at him as if he'd cast thunder on her. He released her instantly.

"Sorry," he said, looking away. "Sorry, Mina. You can go, if you want to."

A twig snapped, and when he opened his eyes, she was even closer, somehow. Her eyes and nose were reddened, her smile a little half-hearted. "You know," she said, "I think you're the first person to say my name in three months."

"Mina?" he said, asked, some sort of tone that he couldn't quite register because she was so close, and he was suddenly very reminded of how long it had been since he'd been in close contact with an eligible woman of any kind. Angrily he pushed the thought away, this was no time for that. Mina was a friend, she wouldn't be happy to know he had thought such things about her.

Her lips were moving. Oh gods, those lips could make a man weak. He swallowed. "Kell," she said, and that sad look was back in her eyes. All those shameful thoughts instantly vanished. "Nobody sees me anymore."

She took his hand, examining the calluses, the lines of his palm. Her own palm was callused, though differently from his. The hands of people who'd spent their lives working were easily identifiable. "They only see her. Hell, sometimes I only see her."

"Mina, " he said again, and she stepped closer, their bodies touching chest to chest. He at last lifted his arms, put them around her, pulled her close.

She neither leaned nor collapsed into him, no, she was too strong for that. Like the willow, she would not break, only bend. Her hands fisted in his shirt and her face pressed to his collarbone. "I just don't want to think about her anymore," she whispered. "I feel like half of me died with her. And every time I start to forget, something reminds me of her. Of everything." He stroked her long hair back, leaned his cheek on her temple.

Once again her shoulders shook, but he felt no warm tears soak through his shirt. Instead she merely stood in his embrace, as if she could somehow draw an invisible strength from this temporary refuge.

I see you, Mina Mi. Just you, he wanted to tell her. Only you, he wanted to say. But how could he battle such grief? How could he ever make her smile? Instead he kept quiet, and the two of them stood like that for quite some time, a silent bastion of comfort.


	10. Ren : Doubt

**Ren - Doubt**

_"There is nothing more dreadful than the habit of doubt. Doubt separates people. It is a poison that disintegrates friendships and breaks up pleasant relations. It is a thorn that irritates and hurts; it is a sword that kills."_

* * *

Ren leaned back against the cool stone wall of the meeting house. Tipping her head back, she closed her eyes and let the Elders' chatter wash over her like pebbles trickling down a streambed. Breathe, she thought to herself, focusing on the in, the out. Breathe. She took stock of her body. Feet aching, tension in her lower back, knot in her shoulder, bug bites itching maddeningly, general exhaustion, but nothing she wasn't accustomed to. Breathe, let it go. She closed her eyes and forced herself to relax, let the tension drain away.

A clap on her shoulder knocked her head roughly into the rough stone wall. Ren grunted in surprise, eyes flying open and narrowing instantly at her would-be attacker. "Good report, Ren," Elder Sot Rah said, winking conspiratorially at her as he passed by. Elder Hannah nodded on her way out, as did Elders Zigera and Kiel. Elder Alexie paused on her way through the door. "Sharen," she said.

Ren looked up at the use of her full name. "Yes, Elder?" she asked respectfully, resisting the urge to rub at the bump Sot Rah had just inadvertently given her.

Alexie did not touch her, though she moved to stand closer. Her dark eyes, surrounded by the wrinkles of a long life, focused in on Ren's face and would not look away. "You did well this year."

Ren looked away, but Alexie wouldn't leave. The older woman rapped her walking stick imperiously on the stone floor, though when Ren at last turned back to face her, her expression was kind. 'Kinder than I deserve,' thought Ren as the guilt pooled deep in her belly and clenched at her heart.

"Sharen, you are young and responsible, and this leads you to feel the need to blame yourself for things beyond your control. Oh, all right, not just you. All caravanners do so, don't look so rebellious."

Ren hurriedly schooled her apparently rebellious face to a blank expression, then opened her mouth. "With all due respect, Elder Alexie, you've now heard my report. By tomorrow you'll have read the chronicle. If Hao hadn't given me her thunder badge, none of this would have happened."

One of Alexie's small, dark hands slowly rose and set itself on Ren's shoulder. For all that her black skin felt like soft, crinkled parchment, her grip was still strong. "I heard your report, yes. And I read Raithen's, and Sherrill's, three months ago. Child, it is very clear to me whose fault this is, and it is not yours."

Ren had often prided herself on her calmness, her stillness, her ability to remain quiet. Now her hands seemed to move of their own accord, and her mouth opened unbidden and said, "How can it not be mine? If she'd had the badge, the thunder spell would have just washed over her! And then she wouldn't have been paralyzed, and she could've run, or dodged, or _something!"_

Alexie's grip tightened even further, and the Elder brought her face close to Ren's, standing on tiptoe to meet the girl face to face. "Hmm, yes, so you say. And Raithen says that if only he had been a little faster, he could have cast a Cure spell to counteract the thunder's damage. And Sherrill, why, Sherrill went on and on about how if only she'd ran a little faster, she could have blocked that last blow with her shield. Aaron, being the owner of an such an incredibly strategic mind, went through about a dozen possible ways her death could have been avoided, and managed to blame himself for each and every failure!" Alexie shook her head slowly. "Oh, child, it is no one's fault but that damned monster's and Hao Ri's, hard as it is to blame a lost friend."

Closing her eyes, Ren did her best to swallow her grief, but once again the lump was just too big. "May I be excused, ?" she choked out, focusing hard on the opposite rough grey stone wall.

Alexie released her, and Ren did not move, though everything in her wanted to bolt for the door. Anything to get away, to be alone, to hide her weakness. Tapping her cane, the elder made her way to the meeting house entrance.

"You're a damn fine caravanner, girl," Alexie said, her own voice rough, though her face was as impassive as ever. "And an asset to the village. Don't ever doubt that."

She left, and the sound of her cane and shuffling footsteps receded. Ren bit her cheek hard, then wiped her eyes. Her hand came away wet. "Damn," she muttered. Then again, a little louder. "Damn."

"How can I not doubt myself?" she demanded of the now empty room, but the silence offered no solace.


	11. Ensemble : Sunset

**Ensemble - Sunset  
**

_"Each morning sees some task begin, Each evening sees it close; Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night's repose."_

* * *

Time passed, as it so often tended to do, without consulting any of its current occupants. The warming, gentle sunlight of just barely past noon soon turned in the sky and began to set, hanging low upon the ridges of the mountains surrounding the Pine Valley.

The fall air was rich with the scent of pine and smoke, roasting meat, and baking fruit pies as the villagers each prepared a dish for the feast to come. A mockingbird called lowly, slowly in the distance, then gave up, for no one was paying attention to what he had decided was his most beautiful song.

Very few monsters roamed the low plains of the valley, preferring to keep to the dense forest that lined the mountain ranges around it. Though a token guard was posted about the village and instructed to patrol regularly, walking along the boundary fence, only once in the past year had they been forced to deal with any creatures of ill intent.

No, the festival would go off without a hitch. The night's peace would not be broken except for the occasional loud, cheery reveler.

Hot Creek was one of the few towns in the world that could claim its guards died primarily of boredom.

* * *

Ty finished his costume despite the constant nagging of the girls, and was surprised to find he was rather proud of it. The helm, dagger, and shield he had borrowed from Elder Kiel. The tunic, however, resplendent in its gold and red, he had worked on himself.

Clipping away the last excess string and removing the last pin, Ty pulled the tunic on over his plain shirt. It fit perfectly, but then, Marina had helped him with the pattern. He stood, tugging it down around his hips, then grinned and strapped on the harness that held the dagger and shield.

The helm was next. He fit it over his head, then, flipping down the visor. Through the slits he groped for his boots and gauntlets, pulling them on in turn, then left his room.

Clomping down the stairs, he could hear the girls giggling to each other in the living room. The scent of Kellen's famous pot pies drifted from the kitchen, he could hear Kell muttering to himself there.

It was difficult to tiptoe when he couldn't see his own feet, but he managed to get to the living room door quietly enough. Grinning fit to burst, he leaped out from behind the doorway into the midst of the girls.

Merry screamed. Hope sat silent, wide eyed, and suddenly burst into tears.

"Papaaaaaaaaa!" Merry screamed again, standing and taking a step back as if to run, then changing her direction and taking a step towards Hope. Then, her face screwed up into the fiercest expression she could manage, she leaped towards him and swung her little fists, pummeling wildly. Meanwhile, Hope stared at him with the most terrified eyes he had ever seen and wept.

"Merry! Hope! It's okay, it's just me!" he tried to tell them, warding off Merry's blows. "It's me, Ty!" By then Kellen had come bursting into the room from the kitchen door. Covered in flour and brandishing a rolling pin and a butcher's knife, Kellen's face was terrifying to behold.

At last Ty did what he should have done the second this whole thing got out of control. He reached up and ripped the helm off his head, blinking at the sudden light flooding into his eyes. "It's me!" he shouted one last time, and was absurdly thankful that the farm was far enough from everyone else's homes that no one had heard the panic.

Kellen swore loudly, lowering the knife and pin. "What in all the hells were you thinking, Ty?"

Merry had sagged down in relief and was now clutching Hope to her side. Hope had stopped crying, but her tear stained little face was filled with such reproach that Ty could have stabbed himself with guilt. "Yeah, Ty! What were you thinking?" she demanded, and sounded so like her late mother that even Kell looked confused for a moment.

"You knew I was making this costume!" Ty protested. "And I didn't think you'd react like that! One would think a goblin had marched in here with all the screaming."

Merry stood and wagged a finger at him. "You still shouldn't have tried to scare us," she announced primly. Hope also stood and wobbled her way over to Kell, who set down the rolling pin and held the butcher knife behind his back as he pulled her close.

"I won't do it again," Ty promised, then paused. "So, I take it the costume looks good?" he asked with a grin.

Kell raised his eyebrows. "Cheeky," he muttered. Merry nodded sagely as well. "Cheeky," she parroted.

From where her little face was hidden, he could hear Hope's voice agree. "Cheeky."

* * *

Aaron awoke to the last rays of the setting sun turning the sky as orange as his own skin. He blinked slowly, then rolled over, adjusting the sheets and covers., reveling in the delicious nap he had just finished

Margery stirred in her sleep beside him, but did not wake. She must have laid down after he had already dozed off, for she hadn't gotten under the covers. Her boots lay discarded at the edge of the large inn bed, her skirt was a little rucked up, shirt disarrayed. Normally he'd take the time to enjoy the view of her stocking covered legs, but some tender feeling within him stopped him. He gently arranged her skirt so that it once again lay to its full length, chalking his bizarre lack of lechery up to tiredness.

"Margie," he said, leaning over to kiss her lightly on the temple. "Time to wake, dearest."

She stirred once more, then slowly opened her eyes, blinking a bit from the last bit of sunlight pouring through the window like sweet summer honey. Their eyes met and she smiled, suddenly and brilliantly.

"Aaron," she said sleepily. "You're really home."

Was it the sunlight on her face that made her seem to glow so brightly? Or was it just that smile? Gods, how he wanted to kiss her. How he'd always wanted to kiss her. But no, they were friends, and friends only. She'd made that clear years before.

"Yeah," he said, and as she yawned, stuck his finger in her wide open mouth, laughing uproariously as she tried and failed to close it and bite him.

"I hate you," she informed him when she'd finally finished yawning, pouting those beautiful lips a bit at the grin he couldn't seem to wipe off his face.

"Yeah," he said, then leaned forward and kissed her anyway.

* * *

Raithen tied off the laces to the back of Namarea's robe even as behind him, Salira helped him with his own laces. Her hands were quick, she tugged once at the bow then pinched his rear.

He snarled playfully at her as she danced out of his reach, giggling as she went to help Julin don her own mage robes. Of all of them, Salira was the most fashion conscious, and had chosen their evening clothes tonight.

"Rai," that was Harrier, leaning in around the door lintel. "The sun just set."

Immediately the group ceased their doings, gathering around Raithen. As first husband and the most powerful sorcerer among them, they had each married to him, and so through him their bonds stood. Raithen held out his paws, and each took a hold of him.

The sudden rush of magical power was intoxicating. Raithen could feel himself swaying as each of them channeled the excess power they had been storing up all day. It was glorious. There was Julin's warmth, her magic wrapping around him as if to protect him from what harm the world might wish him. Next came Namarea's, reserved yet gentle, never forcing their connection. Salira was third, fast and fierce, with palpable heat.

And then Harrier, whose power Raithen did not yet fully understand. He was the reason they had created this ritual. As Harrier's power flowed into Raithen, cool and calm, it also turned and melded with the others. Raithen did what he could, pushing his own magic force towards Harrier, imagining it as a stream flowing into Harrier's body.

In Harrier's other hand sat a crystal, which even now was absorbing their combined magic. One by one Julin, then Nama, then Salira shut down the channels they had opened, and at last Raithen closed down the one he had linked to Harrier. The other man kept his eyes closed for a moment longer, then opened them, regarding the crystal in his hand.

"We've had good results with quartz before," he noted, "But I think the less flaws, the better."

Raithen nodded sagely, reaching over to scratch Julin's back idly. She purred at the relieving touch. "That makes sense," he said, and Salira rolled her eyes at Harrier.

"Could you make a more obvious statement?" she asked him, fluffing her fur and looking at herself in their mirror.

Harrier laughed. "Someone must uphold the Yuke stereotype here," he told her. "Now let me get a book and I will be set for the public gaze."

* * *

Mina Mi took a deep breath, running her brush through her hair one last time. The rejuvenation festival was tonight, and likely the memorial would be tomorrow. She could do this. One more night and one more day, and it would be over.

But what to wear tonight? Certainly not her ceremonial furs, it was becoming far too cold out. Not the blue dress, though it was becoming on her. Closing her wardrobe door, she sighed. How was it that whenever she desperately wanted to look her best, it seemed nothing looked good?

Not that it would matter. She'd rid herself of all the mirrors in her home three months ago. Looking about the room, from her bed in one corner to the matching bed in the other, from her wardrobe to the other, it suddenly occurred to her that everything Hao had owned now belonged to her.

Could she...did she dare?

There was that green dress. She wondered if it was still in Hao's wardrobe. Would her sister be angry to find her wearing her clothes? Mina pictured Hao with her hands on her hips, scolding her, then laughing and stealing her blue dress.

No, her sister would not have minded. Her sister probably would have insisted on it.

Blinking hard, Mina walked over to the other wardrobe and opened it, quickly plucking out the green dress and shutting the wooden door. She didn't want the memories to overtake her, not now, not yet. Not until she'd had some time to create some memories of her own in this dress.

She didn't need a mirror to know it would look good on her. It had always looked so good on Hao. With shaking hands, she pulled the green cotton fabric over her head, tying the sash firmly at her back.

This might be the most joyless rejuvenation ceremony she would ever attend, but damn would she look good attending. And perhaps she would even catch the lovely hazel eyes of a certain farmer.

She could feel the flush heat her cheeks and suddenly realized that, for the first time in awhile, she was smiling.

Running her hands over the soft green cloth, she whispered, "Thanks, sis."

* * *

The sun set, and the villagers gathered.


	12. Sherrill & Children : Infatuation

At last, I vaguely introduce the last of our characters who will tell part of the story! Storytellers? Wevs.

Now that we've established that I am horrible at keeping to an update schedule, I just wanted to thank you for sticking with this story. Seriously though, it's March. This is the longest October night ever.

* * *

**Sherrill and Arro - Infatuation**

_"No, this trick won't work...How on earth are you ever going to explain in terms of chemistry and physics so important a biological phenomenon as first love?"_

* * *

Loren held tightly to her hand as they walked down the village pathways. He was, she thought, ridiculously and undeniably adorable, resplendent in an orange jumper with black triangles and a large black grin sewn onto it. Marina's work, of course, with not a stitch out of place. Their children were the best dressed in the valley.

Ahead of them, Lena chattered and skipped happily with her cohorts, Merry and Hope. They were clad in green and tied together with a green sheet. When Sherrill had asked, Lena had told her, "We're peas in a pod, Mom!" in the most _isn't it obvious _tone.

Walking a few paces behind her, Arro wore a magician's robe, but his heart wasn't in it. He dawdled, and often didn't approach their neighbor's homes at all, staying on the path with her. With Sherrill there to watch Loren, Marina had opted out, instead choosing to help set up the coming feast.

And what a feast it would be! A combined Hallow's Eve and Crystal Rejuvenation feast was nothing to be trifled with. In all her years it had never happened. But her excitement was abated by the frown on her son's face. Marina had warned her earlier that something was troubling Arro, now she was seeing signs of it herself.

Loren took off after his sister, following her to the baker's doorway. The kindly old Clavat lady, despite attending to her duties as a village elder, always had the most delicious treats. Rumors flew every year amongst the children about possible ways to get more than one from her. Sherrill let go of his hand and immediately leaned into a hipshot stance, turning her head to see if Arro had joined them.

But no, he walked to her side and stopped, helm pointed toward the baker's. Reaching out, she lightly brushed her hand over his shoulder. "Oh, lad," she said with a helpless smile, "If I hadn't already known something was wrong, I'd know it now. You love Goodwife Hannah's fried doughnuts."

Though he did not visibly turn, she had the sudden feeling he was watching her. "Nothing's wrong, Mom," he said, and if he thought that settled things, then he didn't know his Mom.

Oh, how she hated the visor he'd taken to wearing after his fifth birthday! Time spent with Rai had taught her somewhat how to read a Yuke, but a Yuke raised by a Clavat and a Lilty and just entering his teenage years? She was more lost than a monster in a marketplace. Still, he was her son. He would not drift away from her because of a failure to reach out.

"Are you angry with me for not being home like Mama is?" she asked, wishing she had the verbal dancing skills of Raithen or little Ren. Arro shook his head no and she patted him lightly on the shoulder in sympathy. Her honest boy, if only she could ask the right questions. "Are you sad about Hao Ri?"

"Yes, but that's not why sweet things don't appeal to me at the moment."

"Then why?" she wondered.

He cast her a sidelong glance. Sure, she couldn't see his eyes, but it was all in the slight tilt of the helm, the change in attitude. "Attraction," he said after a moment, as if that explained it all. At the baffled raise of her eyebrows, he elaborated. "Infatuation. Biological imperative. Hormonal imbalance. Love, except I'm far too young for that."

Her heart both thrilled and fell. Arro, in love? Oh, certainly it was only a crush, but still, first love! How happy she was for him, yet knowing how most first loves ended, how worried. Her baby had not yet known hurt like a first broken heart. How would he cope?

But she was getting too far ahead of herself. There were more important things to discover. Fixating on him with a gimlet eye, she asked, "And who is the lucky lad or lass? Do I know them? Do they know how you feel? Do they like you in return?"

Hesitating, he looked toward where the younger children still flocked around the door. "Yerica," he replied, naming an older Yuke girl in the village. "She doesn't know, but she's kind to me, she talks to me like an equal. And," he seemed to struggle with this, "She's pretty." Poor quantitative Arro trying to describe qualities!

Sherrill opened her arms to him, silently offering a hug as the candy and treats seeking group returned, cheeks and noses dusted with powdered sugar. Lorn reached for Arro, holding out a sticky, chubby hand. Arro reached down and gravely accepted a squished doughnut. "Thanks Lor, he said.

"Welcome!" Loren chirped, seizing Sherrill's hand with his warm, slightly wet fingers. "None for you, Mom" he announced. "Goody-wife Hannah says you were bad, no reports, no doughnuts!" He chortled at the idea of his mother being bad. Everyone knew mothers were good.

"Oh, no!" she exclaimed, swooping down to lift her youngest to her hip. Planting a loud, smooching kiss to his sugar sweet face, she said, "Well, I will have to apologize like we do when we do something wrong, won't I?"

"Yes," Loren agreed, cuddling in her arms as she strode to the next house. She liked having him there, knowing exactly where he was, knowing he was safe, that the world could only hurt him over her dead body like this. She nuzzled his soft cheek, he obligingly rubbed noses with her before announcing imperiously, "Down, Mom! Want more candy!"

"All right, sweetling," she said, dipping her head for one more smooch on his cheek even as he tried to squirm away. "Love you."

But Loren was long gone, scrambled off and hot on the trail of his sister for more sugar. It was Arro who said, "Love you too, Mom."


	13. Yerica : Lonely Young Lady

This chapter is not indicative at all of my thoughts on Yukes or teenagers or romance. Yerica's character is actually based off of the way I felt when I was sixteen or so, except that I'm not a magical bird being.

The nice thing is, this is the last named character whose perspective we will follow in this story (we got a small taste of Jai Noo's perspective during one of the ensemble chapters).

**Yerica - Lonely Young Lady**

_ One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do_  
_ Two can be as bad as one_  
_ It's the loneliest number since the number one _

* * *

Yerica looked into the mirror and at once wished she hadn't. Reading herself for the festival to come, she'd almost forgotten how ugly she was. Raising large paws to her face, she pressed gently at her beak, at her dark, striped fur. Even if she had been born a prettier color than her dull, colorless grey, she was still a Yuke, still awkward and hideous.

No costume could ever hide who she really was. Though she was short for a Yuke, who could miss the fur, the long-fingered paws, the beak, or the tiny wings that fluttered on her back? No, she would be one of the wise men, the birdmen, the freaks, until she died.

At seventeen years old, she'd never had a beau. The only eligible Yuke males in the village were over ten years her senior, and five years her junior. None of the young Selkies, Clavats, or Lilties had looked her way in a decade. There'd been a Lilty lad once, but he'd stopped holding her hand in the schoolroom when she hit a growth spurt at six. Since then, no boy had looked at her as more than a friend.

She was seventeen. She wanted romance. She wanted a beau. She wanted love. She wanted her life to be like those in the tales.

But the mirror did not lie. She was seventeen. She was ugly. She was alone. She was a Yuke. No one ever wrote romance tales about Yukes.

* * *

Darkness had fallen completely over the town, and with all the treats gathered and tricks played, the villagers abandoned their homes for the crystal and central festivities.

"Yerica!" a singsong voice called from the crowd as she trudged to the center of town with her parents. A short female Clavat with skin and hair the color of cinnamon with skipped out onto the path, twirling as she reached her. "How do you like my costume?"

At fifteen, Annie was the closest girl her age in the village. It was only unfortunate coincidence that she happened to be heartbreakingly pretty, Yerica privately thought. Standing next to her petite and beautiful best friend, who was garbed as an elegant noblewoman, she only felt more gangly, awkward, and hideous than before. She resisted the urge to turn around and just head home.

"Hey Annie," she said weakly as the energetic Clavat seized her by the arm and dragged her towards the crystal. She waved a half-hearted farewell to her parents, who immediately set off for their own friends.

"My sis says we can hold the torches for Captain Raithen and Captain Sherrill!" Annie whispered as they at last reached the center of the crowd. A space had been cleared, and before the crystal stood the five Elders and five caravanners. The chalice rested at Aaron's feet, and he held two torches instead of the usual one.

"What am I, a pack animal?" he was complaining to Ren when Annie interrupted.

"Sis, I found another person to help," she announced importantly, drawing Ren's attention away. The older Clavat girl nodded to her younger sister, gesturing to the lit torches Aaron held.

Annie immediately snatched the leftmost one, Yerica accepted the right. "Thank you," Aaron said politely, gathering the chalice into his arms. She nodded a reply before stepping back, moving behind the caravanners so that the ceremony could begin.

The caravanners tipped their torches forward as one, and Raithen set the pitch covered ends afire with a small spell. The crowd fell silent as the group raised their torches high, then brought them down once more to hold before them. With a smooth motion, Ren turned to the two girls behind her, lighting their torches as well.

"People of Pine Valley," Elder Sot Rah spoke in his booming, cheerful voice. "We are here today to celebrate life."

Elder Zigera, a Yuke woman whose age had not yet bent her back, stepped forward. "And to celebrate the deeds of our honored caravan."

The speech was customary, and Yerica found herself tuning them out, mesmerized by the waving flame before her. The only words that had changed in the entire speech in all her years of hearing it was the names of the caravanners involved. Well, and that time when Elder Sot Rah had imbibed a little bit too much Strange Liquid and started telling raunchy stories about his time in the caravan. Smiling privately to herself under her helm, she allowed herself to be lulled by the familiarity.

And then, there were new words.

"...as we rely on you, our guiding stars," the Lilty Elder Kiel intoned gruffly, as he had each year before.

"Yet all stars must fall, and all lights must fade," Elder Hannah said into the silence of the crowd, dress still speckled with flour from her earlier baking. Her normally smooth, slow voice had turned somber and trembled over the new words. "Some, sooner than others."

As she said this, Sherrill held forth her torch, the only one whose top had only a small amount of pitch, and Raithen gently blew out its wavering flame. Taking the still smoking, blackened staff, she passed it to Zigera, who leaned it against the rock foundation of the crystal.

"We are here today to celebrate life, and to celebrate the lives of those who have gone before," Alexie took over, returning the ceremony to its usual script.

Yerica handed her torch to Sherrill, and once Aaron had passed the chalice to the Elders, Annie gave away hers as well. Though she listened closely to the rest of the ceremony, no other words had changed. The death of a caravanner was noted and passed over in less than twenty words.

* * *

With the rejuvenation complete, the square was cleared and trestles of food set along the outside. Villagers brought out their favorite instruments, tuning them and playing small ditties as the people chose food, drink, or dance.

Annie barely let Yerica find a place to set her plate before hauling her into the center of the square. "Let's dance!" Her best friend immediately began a Clavat jig to an accordion reel being performed by a rather inebriated Lilty.

Yerica loved to dance. It was probably the only reason she'd bothered to attend this festival anyway, rather than staying home and curling up with a new tale. With a twirl and a wave of her arms she joined her best friend, maybe her only friend, and resolved that at least for tonight, she would only think happy, confident thoughts.

So she was seventeen and had never had a beau. So all her romance tales only featured Yukes as the wise best friends to Selkie or Clavat beauties. So what?

Tonight, she would be single. Tonight, she would be a Yuke. But tonight, she decided she would be happy in spite of both those things.


	14. Jai Noo : Scoundrel

Once again, this chapter does not reflect my views on anyone, just Jai Noo's. I am not Yuke-phobic, tentacle-phobic, or far more seriously androgyny-phobic (I couldn't find the proper term for that) or transphobic.

* * *

**Jai Noo - Scoundrel**

_I'm like a peacock, you gotta let me fly!_

* * *

To begin with, he was astounded by the size of this place. Not to say it was big by any definition of the word. If Alfitaria was home to thousands then Hot Creek was perhaps just brushing two hundred people, and only if you counted the pregnant women as two. As a result, it was incredibly difficult to find an acceptable catch, let alone a real hunny. Narrowing the lady-pool by age, tribe, looks, freedom…and the last was the most difficult to ascertain. Was that man standing next to that hunny because they were neighbors? friends? lovers? siblings? He'd learned to feel out the answers to his questions carefully. He was a Selkie, Strike One. No one liked it when a Selkie came sniffing out their business. He was also, dare he say it, strikingly handsome (gorgeous, even). Strike Two. Everyone hated beautiful people, particularly when they had the physique of a young god. And, of course, he was foreign, which was Strike Three. He was an unknown, and yet mysterious…possibly alluring.

Jai Noo winked at a young Clavat woman standing by the edge of the square, who smiled and winked back. Every good Selkie knew how to work a strikes crime system in their favor. Trailing behind Aaron and Ren, he appraised a few more lovelies and in turn, felt a few eyes appraise him. Hot Creek had a decent selection, but it was no Alfitaria.

He stood respectfully still throughout the rejuvenation ceremony and let his mind wander. For the most part it stayed firmly with the rest of the caravanners' minds, fixated on a lady named Hao Ri. He'd never met her, but the others occasionally talked about her, mostly Aaron and Ren. Her drawings littered the pages of their chronicle, some serious, some utterly whimsical. It was too bad, really. A fellow Selkie and an artsy type? Hah! Total freak in the sack.

When he wasn't being completely flippant about the whole thing, he could admit that being chosen to take the place of a fallen caravanner was not as complicated a process as one might assume. He'd only just met Raithen after the Yuke single-pawedly broke up a tavern fight and the next thing he knew he was a rookie caravanner. Digging latrines and chopping firewood and taking fighting lessons from each of the crew in turn (especially those of the female persuasion) were preferable to a lengthy visit to the Alfitaria Gaol. Not all had been fun and games though. Right away Sherrill had warned him off of Ren.

"Isn't that a little biased of you, Captain?" he'd asked as scornfully as possible. She'd snorted.

"I've seen your type before," and before he could object, "Male, female, Selkie, Yuke, I know when a predator sets sights on its prey. Now 'Little Ren' isn't so little, but she's not had her heart broken by the likes of you either. Let her go, Jai. Now's not the time or place for a quick romance."

She was right, of course. Captain Sherrill was always right, damn her. And he was serious about caravanning, so he took her advice and treated Ren as a little sister, with the occasional over the top flirtation to keep his hand in. That didn't stop him from flirting with Sherrill at every opportunity though, just to annoy her. For some reason she wasn't interested (though he'd never imagined it would be because of a Lilty woman) but he had to admit she had a sort of classic beauty to her. And when she'd sat down and interviewed him, right after Raithen had kidnapped him, all he could see were her sad eyes. She looked like she belonged in a painting, and, well, you just didn't fuck a painting.

Somehow in the past three months these total strangers had become his closest friends. As he traveled with them, laughed with them, fought with them, and guarded their backs, so they did with him. Seeing Hao Ri's drawings, listening to Aaron reminisce, watching the villagers become visibly emotional as the ceremony progressed, he wished he could have done all those things with her, too.

And, y'know, maybe taken a tumble with her behind the caravan.

Ceremonies, schmeremonies. The caravanners had done their duty, they were cleared for the evening. Unlike in Alfitaria, where they were paraded around the entire city and then trapped at the King's Ball long past midnight, the caravanners were free to do as they pleased. Sherrill immediately rejoined her wife and children (children? How on earth did they get a Yuke brat?) and Raithen followed her, exchanging a few words with the Lilty wife before moving onto his own group.

Ugh. Raithen's _harem_. Did they really have tentacles? He squinted a bit, trying to see past the fur and robes. It was possible. Aaron always gave incredibly accurate details on the monsters they encountered, Jai doubted he'd be wrong about this. Why would anyone want to be part of a Yuke harem? He supposed that, as a Yuke, they probably didn't get much of a choice in the matter. He felt a faint stab of pity for the male…female?...Yuke that just reached up to touch his Captain's face. Had he…she?…actually wanted to marry another Yuke?

Low-pitched, throaty feminine laughter caught his ear, his eyes followed eagerly. Out by the crystal, now cleared of people except for dancers, two young women danced. One of them he eyed and dismissed immediately. She was trying too hard, her dancing stiff and awkward, too considering of onlookers' opinions. But the girl next to her…now she was a natural.

The other girl was all smoothness and fun. She bent her body like it was a gentle caressing breeze, not a contraption built for an imagined gaze. She tilted her head back, and despite the ridiculous costume she wore, her laugh rang loud and clear. It was hers he had heard, hers he had been drawn to.

Dull grey Yuke costume or not (damned if he didn't love a daring woman, making a costume choice like that), this silly-natural-lovely dancing girl was the hunny he had to have tonight.


	15. Margery : A Drink With Friends

This chapter is part of my promise to write fanfics for NaNoWriMo! Expect more...but not too much, I'm very lazy and very human.

* * *

**Margery - A Drink With Friends**

_If you know someone who tries to drown their sorrows, you might tell them sorrows know how to swim._

* * *

The large kitchens of the inn were filled with the scents of baking bread, pies, and pastries. Sitting alone at the massive island of a counter that rested in the center of the various ovens, sinks, and pantries, Margery heaved a quiet sigh and let the silence overtake her at last.

An entire village's worth of food had to be prepared somewhere, after all. While some of the townspeople had chosen to cook or bake their contributions at home, many simply did not have the space. The inn's multiple, massive ovens were used all day on such festivals as today's; Margery was grateful that the preparation for Hallow's Eve had begun days ago, else this would have been far more hectic than it was.

With the hustle and bustle over, she had only to occasionally stoke the fires and remove the last of the dishes as they became ready. Though this last leg took place during the ceremony, she had volunteered to stay. How many ceremonies has she seen in her life, anyway? Enough, certainly. It was enough to spend time with Aaron (when he wasn't being a total prat, that is). She didn't need all the pomp and circumstance; she got enough of that from the traveling merchants (businessmen, her ass) who stayed at the inn while on official business from other towns. Now, she wanted only simple things, like quiet time with friends.

She was up on her stepladder, groping blindly into the recesses of her tallest cupboard, when an expected knock sounded from the kitchen door. "Oh, get in here!" Margery called exasperatedly, rising up on her tiptoes and only succeeding in having her fingers just brush the desired object.

"Come on, MaMa," a sweet alto voice teased. "No need to get grouchy."

Margery accepted her defeat at the hands of heights once again and backed off her ladder. "Honestly, MiMi," she said to her friend, "If you'd been stuck in this kitchen all day, you'd be grouchy too."

Mina Mi laughed, giving Margery a quick hug before mounting the ladder herself. She hauled herself up each step as if she were ascending a summit ('Drama queen,' Margery thought affectionately), then thrust her hand into the cupboard with an anxious, "You did take care of that mu problem, didn't you?" While her friend giggled, Mina produced the flagon of cider that had so eluded her. Leaping from the ladder with a Selkie's grace, she landed easily and skipped out to the common room to sit at one of the many long trestle tables.

Margery checked each dish before fetching three cups. At Mina's pointed gaze from the kitchen door, she shrugged. "SaSa said she was coming too."

"Oh, good," Mina commented as she poured even amounts of the cooled cider into each mug. "I haven't seen her in a few days. She's been up to some experiment lately. Possibly something flammable? I heard a big banging noise coming from there house yesterday."

"Probably planning what they were going to do to Raithen when he got home," Margery quipped, and then froze for a moment. She shouldn't have said that! Shit, how insensitive! She didn't want to remind her friend of the caravan at all – tonight, such reminders would be inescapable, and she didn't want to be another one.

But Mina just laughed. Margery vowed to watch her tongue a little closer and took a sip of her cider, only to choke on it when Mina declared, "I thought he was walking funny when I saw him earlier!" She hooted with laughter, and soon Margery wasn't sure (and didn't really care) whether they were laughing about Raithen or their own silly antics.

A low, feminine, _clearly_ unimpressed voice interrupted the merriment. "Really?" Salira asked, shaking her helmed head as she moved to take a seat, green robes sweeping behind her. "Whose sex lives should we really be laughing about here? My existing one or your…non-existing ones?"

Mina and Margery maintained cowed solemnity for about three seconds. Then Mina drawled in her best Fum accent, "Y'know, for such a smart Yuke ye sure use a lotta dumb _werds_." That set all three of them off, and they were still giggling when Salira unclasped her helm and set it aside, taking a long draught of her drink.

"Whoa, SaSa," Margery chipped in, "Aren't you only supposed to do that around friends?"

"Ha ha, oh you," Salira replied, gulping down some more before wiping her mouth with a red-furred paw and smiling at them. "You know, I do dearly love my partners, but sometimes it is wonderful to get away from them."

"I've long suspected that escaping with the caravan's the only way Raithen manages to deal with being wed to so many people," Mina offered.

"I'm starting to see why," Salira said. "I really do love them, you both know that, but Jules is so damn bossy and Nama's _so_ passive… Harri gets emotionally wounded by everything and Rai acts like our problems are quick, simple solution sort of things to fix. It's enough to make me set the house afire sometimes, honestly."

Margery nodded sympathetically. Mina frowned and said "So _that's_ what that explosion sound was!" and they were off laughing and teasing each other again. Checking her clockwork, Margery sprang to her feet and rushed into the kitchen, hauling open the last oven's doors. She seized a pair of mitts and quickly removed the golden crusted pie warming within. Tendrils of steam curled upward into the air from the slits in its top, the warm aroma ghosting into the common room where Salira inhaled them deeply. "Smells good, Margery," she called appreciatively. "Is that your own recipe?"

"It is," the Lilty in question called back, "And you well know it!"

"I think the last time I smelled anything that good was two months ago, staying here with you," Salira said. "Nothing Jules or Harri ever concocted in our kitchen has ever tasted as good as the stuff you whip up without a moment's thought."

"Truth," Mina agreed, appearing in the doorway, patting her stomach. "Your apple pies are the stuff of dreams."

Margery's cheeks heated up with a dark blush for the compliment. Neither of her two friends were the type to dole out flattery. "Thank you, oh, but Kellen's are the best in the village and you know it!" she protested, turning her face away slightly. Her hands were too full to wave the words away.

Fascinatingly, Mina's whole face lit red in a blush of her own, one she ineffectually tried to hide by turning around under the guise of some reason or other. It was too late, and by her actions Salira saw as well. The tall Yuke woman leaned back in her chair as Margery set the pie upon the counter and moved to the common room.

"So," Salira said, after the two of them had watched Mina's miserable face for a moment. "Kellen, hmm? What did he do, and where do you think is the best place to hide his body?"

Mina's grey eyes widened. She shook her head quickly, silver tresses loosening from where she had pinned then up and falling to join in the motion. "No, no, it wasn't like that. Kell didn't…all he did…he just _held_ me."

Like the clap of a thunder spell, it hit Margery just what she was trying to say. "Do you _like_ him?" she asked, watching and marveling as Mina's face heated red once more. It was strange to see her graceful friend so clearly discomfited. "Mina."

"You two were the first to know when I fell helm over heels for Rai and the rest," Salira announced warningly. "If I don't get to be the first to hear news like this, I will be _very_ put out."

The Selkie made a choking noise that might have been a chuckle before her embarrassment had reached it. "He's always been so kind, SaSa. Every day he comes and waits for his girls, and Sherrill and Marina's kids too, and he always takes the time to talk to me about _me_, not just the kids and what they're learning. And he's so handsome, remember how I had that huge crush on him when I was thirteen? All he did was hold me to make me feel better and now it's all come back and I feel like some awkward, lovestruck girl!" Mina inhaled deeply, as if having expelled something from her that had been waiting a long time. She shook her head twice, then noticed the wayward strands of flyaway hair and laughed harshly. "I'm a fool."

"No," both of her friends objected. They looked at each other, then back at her. Margery took the lead. "I'm going to get us some pie," she told the other two. "Everything is better with pie."

Hurrying back into the kitchen, Margery fetched three plates from the cupboard and her knife. Cutting with the easy expertise of a longtime baker, she plopped a slice and a fork onto each of the plates. Covering the pie, she fetched a small bowl of cream from the cellar and ladled a dollop onto each slice of apple pie. 'Perfect,' she thought happily. She set one plate on her bent arm and the other two in her hands, then glided out into the common room and placed the treat before each of her seated friends on one side of the large table, who oohed and aahed appreciatively.

Though she wanted to let Mina eat in peace, the ceremony would be ending any time now, and she wanted to know all about what was going on with her and Kellen. "MiMi," she said coaxingly. "You're not a fool. You could have feelings for worse."

"Like me," Salira said, nudging her gently with her elbow. "Kellen's a good man. We are not trying to tease you. It just seemed sudden, since we'd both thought you'd gotten over that crush years ago." She looked to Margery for support; the Lilty nodded, reaching across the table to lay a hand across Mina's.

Mina still looked miserable, but she took a drink from her cup and tried to put on a smile. "I thought so too."

"What happened? Why was he holding you?" Salira pressed.

Their Selkie friend took a deep, shuddering breath (oh, no, all I'd wanted was not to remind her) and said, "I swear he's the only person who sees me in this town besides the two of you."

Salira drew back and Margery drew forward (please don't let me hurt her). It was how they had always worked. "Is it because of Hao?"

She blinked hard a few times. "Yes."

"All right, we're moving back in," Salira announced to Margery, wrapping a protective arm around Mina's shoulders. "Forget the ceremony. We've got pie, we've got alcohol, I'll sneak out a few nights to visit Rai and Aaron can come by to visit if he can promise not to be a jerk. We'll cancel school, or the Elders can take over again. We'll hole up here and emerge when everyone can stop being completely insensitive about it."

Margery laughed, unable to help herself, and Mina cracked a wide smile. Despite coming on the heels of the worst news they'd ever received, August had been a good month for them all. Rallying around their friend, Margery and Salira had hustled her off to stay at the inn for the entire time. Salira had packed both her own and Mina's things, temporarily moving in too. Though at first grief had held them all in its cold arms, their friendship held firmer and greater. By September they had returned to their regular lives, though Margery had sometimes wished they could have stayed forever.

"That would be lovely," Mina agreed, her lovely smile firming as she, too, remembered. "It hasn't been so bad, though. Just with the caravan returning today, and Sherrill…I understand why, I do. You two know me best, but Sherrill knew my sister. When she looked at me today, she wasn't looking at _me_. But Kellen came after me, when I ran away, and he listened to me, and then he held me, like it was the most natural thing in the world to do."

Margery squirmed a little. _The most natural thing in the world to do…_ Aaron had said something like that, earlier, after he'd kissed her.

* * *

"_...why did you do it?"_

"_Because it seemed like the natural thing to do."_

* * *

He was always doing things like that, saying things like that. He knew she couldn't, knew she'd fought long and hard (too damn long and too damn hard) for her independence. And then he was always off, running away with the caravan again. Off to gallivant his way around the continent, in and out of various people's beds. He'd say he loved her, and maybe he believed it, but every year there were new lovers he'd left behind in Alfitaria, and Fum, and Shella. Aaron would bed a monster if he were attracted to it. And while Margery wasn't the jealous type, she certainly had no desire to be another notch in his bedpost either.

No, what Mina was saying about Kellen was sweet because of its sincerity, not its words. Aaron's were not because of the inherent lie in them. He loved her, maybe. But he didn't love her enough.

That was the hard truth of it. She had come to accept it, over the years, but that did not stop him from returning each year to rip the scar open anew, leaving her to mend it closed once again. Like a raw patch on her heart, this time it had only half-healed before he'd come back into her life today and royally ruined it. He was her closest friend, yes, even her oldest friend, but he would never be her lover.

Something grew heavy in Margery's chest and sank; her eyes prickled for a moment. She blinked a few times, willing it away. There was no point in being sad over something she had known for years. It was long past time that this dream died.

Salira had just finished with the love advice she had been telling a disbelieving Mina (advice used to ensnare four hearts was a little different than the advice you needed to just capture one) when Margery refocused on the conversation. "A toast," she said abruptly, raising her mug. The other women raised their cups obligingly.

"To sweet and kind men," Salira offered, nudging Mina once again.

Mina thought for a moment, then nodded sharply once. "To my sister," she said.

Margery nodded as well (if you can't run from it, meet it head on). "To our friendship."

They drank deeply, cleaned up, and moved to the kitchen just in time to help the revelers who came in to fetch the feast.


	16. Raithen: The Epitome of a Yuke

I remember when I first started this story, and all I had in my head was comedy. Still in my mind the comedy remains, but we have a long way to go and there are many stories to tell, some funny and some tragic. I suppose all of life is like that, sometimes. I promise that, invariably, this will degenerate into (tasteful) sex comedy at some point. Don't ask me how.

**Raithen – The Epitome of a Yuke**

_"Somebody's gonna give you a lesson in leaving."_

* * *

The ceremony ended with five torches burning merrily around the cerulean glimmer of the crystal. The crowd surged forward when the crystal's light flared anew, some laughing, some cheering, and some weeping.

Raithen was one of the ones who always wept. Like all Yukes, he did not shed tears. Their bodies were not biologically capable of such things. He cried in his heart, the scent rolling off of him in waves. No one but another Yuke or a close friend would recognize the depth of his emotions. To see such beauty year after year, as the crystal gleamed brighter and brighter with each chanted word, to see all his hopes come to fruition in one flare of incandescence, to know just what this moment had cost, what price paid…Raithen wept profusely. He was not alone, he saw. He never was.

Beside him, Sherrill did not seem to notice his gaze. Her eyes shimmered in the light of both the torches and the crystal; she smiled and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, the unshed tears were gone. She nodded once, then turned and melted away into the crowd. In the momentary gap she left behind, he saw Aaron. The Lilty stared, enraptured, at the crystal. Obvious tears tracked down his face and he made no effort to hide them.

Crossing the space between them took only three measured strides. Raithen placed a gentle paw on Aaron's shoulder, squeezing lightly before letting it fall back to his side. The younger man leaned into him. By then most of the crowd had dispersed, scattering in order to prepare the square for the feast, fetch food, or gather family. His own family could wait a moment longer, Raithen decided.

Aaron rubbed at his eyes. "My best friend, you know," he said, "Always looking out for me." He sighed deeply. "I fucked up, man."

"I, too, miss her," Raithen offered.

He raised one eyebrow. "I didn't think you even knew her."

That stung. Certainly grief could make all sorts of emotions emerge, but that sort of doubt in his connections with his caravanners was just unreasonable. "We had been friends for a long time."

"Really?" Aaron's incredulity, spiced with the natural irritability of the Lilties, struck his nostrils. Raithen's confusion began to turn to anger.

"You think I do not know my own caravan?"

Bafflement evident in every line of his face, Aaron exclaimed, "Who are you talking about?"

"Ah," Raithen paused, mentally reviewing the last several minutes of conversation. "Hao Ri. Who are you talking about?"

Aaron gave a short bark of a laugh. "Oh, gods, Rai, I'm talking about Margery!"

"Margery?" Raithen repeated, then swiftly reviewed what he knew of her. She was the Lilty woman who ran the inn and tavern. A few years younger than Aaron, she was in the same generation as Salira and Hao Ri. She was known to be close with Aaron, and Salira had once thought that the two of them might pair off.

Perhaps it was romantic trouble? Raithen could have taught at Shella's university about that. He had many romantic relationships, after all, and it was no simple thing to maintain his marriage.

"There, there," he told Aaron, patting the other man on the shoulder. "Tell me all about it."

"Rai," Aaron said, looking up at his friend, "You look like you're about to study me rather than help me."

So it was. Raithen gave a shrug, knowing how much it communicated to his Lilty, Clavat, and Selkie friends. "I can fit you in on Thursday, just after noon."

Though he was liable to spend most of the time recording and utterly fascinated by his patients' emotional shifts, variances, and depths, Raithen was still the best mind healer in the village. Aaron threw his hands in the air. "Oh, why the hell not?"

From the corner of his visor slit, Raithen saw a Yuke paw wave. Harrier motioned for him to follow, the shorter Yuke turning and heading for a trestle table far away from the betimes clumsy dancers that would soon be kicking up their heels. Bidding his friend farewell and wishing him luck, he moved to join his family.

They had already secured a plate for him, and so he sat down to eat with gusto. Most Yukes had no difficulty eating despite the helms that covered their heads, and Raithen was no exception, though it was more comfortable to go without during mealtime. He raised his visor, popping the morsels his spouses had selected into his mouth. They were all the more delicious for the strength of their scent, something known only to Yukes. Had he been bored, he supposed he could have sniffed out their chemical compounds, but he was here to enjoy their taste rather than their makeup.

Despite her face being shielded, Rai sensed Namarea smile to see his appetite. It had been so long since he had eaten a proper, home cooked meal. As their family chef, she would likely stuff him so full by winter that _he_ would be the one hunted for their Harvest Festival feast. He chuckled to himself, passing his plate to Harrier in order to have more food heaped upon it.

They chatted as they ate, relating stories of the past year that he had missed as he regaled them with a few tales of his own. Then came the fateful moment, though he would not know it until later.

"Julin's been having some trouble with Elder Zigera," Salira teased.

"Truly?" Raithen responded with a chuckle. "Well, let me talk with Zigera. I can get that fixed for you."

His firstwife sighed deeply, rather than giving him the pleased "Thank you" he had expected. "Something wrong, dear?" he asked.

The others looked to her in a strangely somber moment, and Julin rose from the table. "I must speak with you, husband," she said softly, "Alone."

* * *

Raithen had always known who he was. It was one of the strengths of being a Yuke. Other races dithered, sending themselves out on long quests to discover this knowledge. The Selkies of Leuda had even integrated it into their caravanning, sending their youth out into the world for as long as it took for them to settle and choose a life path. Raithen had always thought this strange, but it made sense, he supposed.

As a Yuke, he had always been certain of his life path and also his emotions. No biological or hormonal shift could deter him or confuse him. No dull, dreary day could turn him away from the logic of his feelings. This moment required this reaction, this situation required this feeling. He knew what to do and what to feel, always.

So when Julin dragged him down the path, up the steps to the porch, and through the door of their home, he found himself baffled, almost thrown off the logical course of emotions. Generally speaking, such a situation should engender an angry reaction, he thought, but what about when it was one's spouse performing it? More particularly, one's first spouse? He wondered how other races would react to this, and then realized that other races generally did not have first spouses. Well, he would have to follow the logical path.

"What are you doing?" he asked, leaning back against the hallway wall as Julin finished lighting a few candles and slumped into the chair nearest the door. He had never seen his stoic, dignified firstwife so flustered, so confused, so _emotional_. She turned her helmed head to look at him, then gave a growl and yanked at the straps and clasps, ripping the metal contraption from her head. His eyebrows rose beneath his own helm. Had that been frustration?

"Raithen," she said, eyes glittering in the dimly lit room, "Take off your helm."

"Why?" he asked.

"Please just take off your helm," she requested again.

"Julin, I would like to know why," he said firmly.

"For the love of the gods, Rai, will you just do as I ask for once without having to know my logic or reasons?" she snapped, then sighed deeply. "Take it off, because we need to have this conversation face to face."

"I am standing right here," Raithen reminded her.

She sighed deeply. "I would like to see your face when I say what I have dragged you all the way down here in order to say, as you are able to see mine currently."

Well, all right. It was a strange request for a conversation, but not too odd, he supposed. Most Yukes went helmless in their own homes, particularly his own family. He doubted anyone would be stopping by the home right now-the children's' activities for Hallow's Eve had finished earlier, and most revelers were up by the crystal-so he did not fear having his face seen. He reached his own paws up and found the familiar buckles of his helm, undoing them in soft, quiet snaps. He placed it on the side table, reaching his paws up once more to rub at his head and face lightly as he went to take a seat near her. Stimulating the scalp in such a way was good for increasing the blood flow to the area.

"Will you tell me now?" he asked at last.

Julin shook her head slowly, her fur rippling with the movement. She had always been so beautiful, he thought, the current moment no exception. In the candlelight her silvery fur glowed orange, yellow, and red, like sunlight. Her scent, no longer blocked by either of their helms, drifted across the room to him. He stiffened. She smelled saddened, or sorrowful. It was not the scent of grief, of tears and anguish, but that of heartache.

"Raithen, always have I loved you," she said. "Since the moment we met in Shella, I knew I wanted to be with you. Perhaps it was unYukelike of me, to love so quickly and so powerfully, but I knew how I felt then and there."

She paused. Raithen smiled cautiously. "We were an excellent match," he replied.

She smiled as well, but the scent of sadness only grew stronger. "No, my love. Well, yes, but so much more than that. I loved you. I felt it. Do you know what it means to love?"

"Of course I do!" Raithen drew back, affronted. He had three wives and a husband. Of course he knew what love was. "I love you and all of our partners."

"Do you?" she asked. He frowned, and she shook her head again. "I know you love us. But do you know what love is?"

Blinking, Raithen could only stare at her. How were these separate questions? How was it that answering the one did not also answer the former?

"We were so happy," Julin continued. "Back then. We were happy and young and in love. Well, I was, at least."

He did not know what to say. There was no logical pattern to follow her train of thought. So he said nothing.

"I want a divorce," she said softly, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

"But why?" he asked.

"I need more than this, more than what we have."

"I...surely between all of us, we have met your needs," he stammered.

"Raithen, this is not about having my basic needs met! Yes, I have food and shelter and companionship. But what I wanted from this marriage was love, and understanding, and compassion—everything I have given to you from the first moment I met you—and of that, you have nothing to give!"

"I love you! I understand you-" he said, stunned and stung.

But Julin was not finished. "You treat us like we are battle strategies. Plan A did not solve our problems, so let us try Plan B! Plan C! Plan D! How many plans do you have, Raithen? Did you plan for this?"

His paws were shaking. His breath was coming in short gasps. Coldly, analytically, a voice in the back of his head suggested it was an excellent thing he had sat, lest he collapse. He tried to reach out to her and take her paw, but she jerked away from him.

"It would be one thing if you had only started doing this after Hao Ri passed," she said, "But you have always done this. Since I have met you, this is how you have handled our relationship. I have only ever been a problem for you to solve, an equation rather than a wife."

He shook his head. "No, that is not correct. That is not true."

"It is true. You do not understand me," she interrupted. "If you understood me, you would have seen the beginnings of this years ago! If you felt compassion toward me, then you would be trying to understand me now instead of trying to convince me of how I am wrong! And if you loved me, if you loved me," here she faltered. "If you loved me, I would be staying with you in spite of those other two needs."

"Jules," he whispered.

"No, Raithen. I have already packed my things."

"But where will you go?"

"I've taken a room at the inn," she admitted, her head hanging low. So she had already planned this, set it into motion. Long before they had this conversation, she had known the outcome.

Raithen wanted to take her to task about the injustice of going about their conversation in this way, but the seriousness of her tone stopped him. "Julin, please, don't go. Stay here."

"I can't be near you, Rai. I just can't." She still would not look at him.

"Jules, I..." Raithen paused, the sound of her nickname said so unconsciously from his lips making him want to weep again. And in that, he saw a way. "I will go."

"What?"

"I will stay at the inn. I am the one at fault. You should not be chased out of your own home." The plan was forming now. He knew what to do.

"Raithen, no. Nama, 'Lira, and Harri have all been waiting so long to see you. You should not leave them simply because of me."

"Clearly our entire relationship is out of balance, if it is making you leave. I need to make it right."

"Rai, no, that was not what I have been saying at all! This is not something you can fix!" her head came back up, voice pleading. Sorrow and…anger?...flowed from her in waves.

"I have to make it right. I am certain I can." Raithen stood up, taking up his helm once more. "I will take the room at the inn. You take issue with me, correct, and not the others? I will stay until I figure out how to make this better."

She looked despairingly at him as he strode over to stand beside her chair. Reaching out, he caressed her cheek with one paw.

"Do not be sorrow so, Jules," he said. "Everything will be all right."

As he strode away, headed for the door with a solid plan in mind, he heard her whisper, "Raithen, this, right here, is exactly why I am leaving you."

* * *

Like all Yukes, Raithen worked better with a plan. Improvising was for the Lilties and Selkies, after all. Julin had confused him with her words, her emotions ever at odds with them, but he thought he had managed to tease out what she was really trying to say. There was a problem in their relationship, was what it came down to. The problem was that she did not think he loved her. Well, easily solved, if he said so himself. It might take time, but there was a clear path to take now. All he had to do was prove to her that he loved her.

Hmm, perhaps it was not so easily solved. How did one prove one's love? He knew how the Lilties did it, declaring themselves loudly. He'd seen one of the great Lilty playwright Shakespeare's plays. That Romeo, shouting up to a balcony...how uncouth it was. No wonder they had both died at the end, foiled by their own illogical Lilty hearts. He knew how the Selkies did it, with sidelong glances and coy words and flirtations. He had watched Jai Noo at work long enough to know that. And he refused to even start on how the Clavats did it, with their elaborate courtships and rituals. Certainly they were a quiet folk, but even they turned insensible in the face of love. No, he would do it the way that Yukes did such things. The only question was, how did the Yukes do it?

When in doubt, consult an expert. His father's words, and the advice had never failed him before. Ah, perhaps his father's advice would not fail again? He could consult his father. However, letters often took time. Who else could he consult in the meantime? His friend Aaron knew much about lust, but judging by the way he and that innkeeper Margery had been stepping around each other for years, he did not know much about love. Jai Noo would be even more useless. Perhaps Sherrill? Normally he asked his wives and husband for advice about emotional aspects. Perhaps Nama, 'Lira, or Harrier could grant him insight?

It would be best that word did not get around about this yet, he thought, especially as he would likely convince Julin within the week that he still loved her. Within the family it was! Stepping out, he hastened back to the crystal, hoping to find the three still at the trestle tables.

He was in luck. Nama and 'Lira were watching the dancers, the former clapping in time and the latter laughing at something or other. He joined them with a nod. They glanced awkwardly at him, then away. They had known.

"Why did you not tell me?" he asked, unable to keep the accusing tone from his voice.

"'Twas not ours to tell," said Nama quietly, her paws dropping to her lap.

"Guess I wanted to see if you had managed to pull the stick out of your ass this year," Salira added bluntly. She had a talent for doing so, managing to succinctly and impolitely state just about anything. "This has been a long time coming, you know."

"No, I do _not_ know," Raithen answered her non-question. "I did _not_ know. I thought we were happy. I thought she was happy."

Despite the helms blocking them both, Salira's scent on the breeze managed to carry the perfect compound of irritation and pity. Namarea placed a warning paw on Salira's shoulder, leaning forward. "Rai, love, did you listen to her? All she wanted was for you to listen."

"Of course I listened," Rai said. "I do not understand how she could do this to me."

Namarea and Salira traded long glances. Then Nama removed her hand from 'Lira's shoulder, as if unleashing the red furred Yuke. "Raithen," Salira said slowly. "You listened, but did you really hear her?"

Once again, he was confronted with two questions that he thought had the same meaning. "Of course. I still do not understand."

"Perhaps that is what it is," Namarea offered cryptically before standing and heading out to the circle of dancers.

"What is that even supposed to mean?" Rai demanded of his seemingly last remaining wife.

Salira laughed, but it was not a happy sound. "Oh, Rai," she said. "Nama's just running because she hates confrontation. You know how she is."

He nodded, mollified. Namarea had done her best to help him understand. He truly was too volatile at the moment; it was no wonder she had made her escape. He took a deep breath. "Please help me understand."

Salira looked at him, helm tilted to one side, pity in her voice as she said, "It's you, Rai. It's who you are."

* * *

What Salira had done her best to explain to him, he still was not sure he could believe.

He was everything a Yuke should be, Raithen reflected. He was mysterious, wise, knowledgeable, deep: an intellectual. Rarely did he reveal his innermost thoughts and feelings. Helpful to a fault, he was indispensable to both caravan and village. Someday, when he had either grown too old or tired for the caravan, he would likely be appointed an Elder. This was not a declaration or prideful assumption, but mere observation. All was well in that regard.

So why did Salira look at him with such pity? She had said, "It's you, Rai. It's who you are," but what did that even mean?

Raithen had been the same man since he had met Julin. Yes, the caravan had caused him to develop some extraneous mannerisms, but his core personality traits had not made an drastic shifts. He was still intelligent, curious, affectionate, kind: a giving partner, a loyal husband. He had taken care of every problem she had ever had, fixed every issue their relationship had raised—

"_It's you, Rai. It's who you are."_

-he had done _everything_ for her! He was always taking care of his family, solving their problems. It was amazing that they survived without him for so much time out of the year. How dare she be so angry with him! How dare she not love him! He still loved her! Even after all these years and all this time apart, he still loved her!

The inn room he now stood in seemed cold and dull, despite the cheery wall hangings, curtains, and rugs Margery had installed. He placed his pack beside the solid dresser that stood close to the door. Though he normally insisted upon cleanliness and order in the caravan, tonight he could not be bothered with such things. He tore off his helm, throwing it into a corner and taking sick satisfaction from the loud clanks that echoed slightly in the empty chamber. Sinking onto the bed, built to fit two, though tonight it would only cradle one, he placed his head in his paws and wept for the second time that night.


End file.
